


The Death of a Dickens' Fan

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo takes Henry with her to investigate a murder in a library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death of a Dickens' Fan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> My very grateful thanks to O for an extremely rapid Ameri-pick.

Henry Morgan ran down the stairs, calling out as he did so, “Who was on the phone, Abe?”

“Jo.  She’s got a case she’d like you to take a look at,” Abe replied.  Then added, as Henry headed straight for the door, “Where are you going?  She said she’d pick you up on her way; she’ll be about fifteen minutes.  So you still have time for breakfast.”

“Stop nagging.  I’ve had plenty of experience of knowing when I need to eat.”

“And plenty of experience of not doing so.  Here, scrambled eggs and a bagel.”

Henry was still eating when Jo arrived.  He was about to leap up, when Jo said, “Those eggs smell wonderful.”

“I can make you some if you want,” Abe called.  “Won’t take long.”

“Would you mind?  That would be great,” Jo replied.  “Another ten minutes won’t make any difference.”

“Of course.  Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Tell me about the case,” Henry said.

“It’s almost a classic body in the library case.  Although there’s no question about how the killer got in and out since there’s no lock on the door.  The victim was shot and it looks as if some of his papers were stolen.  All of which seems very straightforward.”

“So why are you involving me?”

“There’s just something about it which seems odd.  And you’re very good at ‘odd’.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“You know what I mean.  Thank you very much, Abe,” she said, accepting the plate of scrambled eggs.  “I thought if you could take a look round you might spot whatever it is that’s bothering me.”

Henry nodded and Jo turned her attention to her breakfast.

***

When they arrived at the murder scene Jo escorted Henry into the library.  The body had been removed and an officer was finishing boxing up the papers from the victim’s desk.  Jo explained the papers had been scattered, as if someone was looking for something specific.  They would need to be sorted before it became apparent what, if anything, was missing.

Henry began studying the book shelves.  “A lot of these are first editions,” he said.

“Valuable then?” Jo asked.

Carefully Henry took one down and looked at it.  “Not particularly.  Take this one: _The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby_ , by Charles Dickens.  It’s battered and clearly been read several times.”  He worked his way along the shelf.  “There are several more of Dickens’ books here, all in much the same condition.  I would guess the owner had them to read himself, but liked having the original, rather than a paperback.  And it’s not as if first editions of Dickens’ books are a rarity.”

“He was very popular in his time, wasn’t he?” Jo said.

“Indeed he was.” 

Henry continued looking along the shelves, but his mind had slipped to 1868 and standing outside the Steinway Hall in East 14th Street.  He’d been one of those who’d crowded inside, keen to hear the great Charles Dickens read from his works.  It had been unfortunate, as far as Henry was concerned, Dickens chose to read at length from his recent novel, _Our Mutual Friend_ , with its story of a man presumed dead from drowning. 

Henry shook his head to clear the image; it hadn’t been one of his better evenings.  At the same time, something had triggered another memory.  Not a Steinway piano this time, but a Wm Knabe, at the opening concert in the new Carnegie Hall.  The conductor had been the famous Russian composer, Petr Ilych Tchaikovsky.  Of course, Henry hadn’t been able to afford to attend that concert, but he had managed to get a ticket for another concert of Tchaikovsky’s tour.  He started to whistle.

Meanwhile, Jo had been examining a shelf with some small busts on them.  “Goulding certainly liked his Dickens.  He’s got a bust of him up here.  What is it you’re whistling?”

“Tchaikovsky, his first piano concerto.”

“Tchaikovsky seems to have been another of Goulding’s interests.  His bust is here, too.  And there’s a large collection of his music, what do you call them, scores, in a box.  They look pretty old too.”

“Again, they wouldn’t be worth much.  Abe has a box of sheet music in the shop, but I think he normally accepts whatever people are prepared to pay.  Goulding seems to collect for the historical feel, rather than for the value.  Although, there was something.  Can you phone Abe for me?  I want to ask him about it.”

Jo took her phone out.  “I presume your phone is in your desk drawer again,” she said with a grin.  When Abe answered she passed the phone over to Henry, who asked him a couple of questions, before listening intently to the answers.  When he had finished the conversation he passed the phone back to Jo.

“Thank you,” Henry said.  “I remembered a few nights ago Abe and I were talking about what it would be like to have heard Tchaikovsky conducting his own music.  Abe mentioned he was reading an article concerning the concert tour and how some papers had been found which related to it.  It appeared a collector had offered a substantial sum for the papers, which had been rejected.  The current owner had said he was interested in the historical significance of the papers, rather than the monetary value of them.  His name, you may not be surprised to know, was Goulding.”

“So you think whoever killed Goulding was after those papers?”

“I think it’s a reasonable proposition.”

“I’ll get on to it.”  Jo took her phone out again.  “Good morning, Lieutenant.  We believe the stolen documents may relate to the visit by the composer Tchaikovsky to New York in … what date, Henry?  … 1891.  Can they do a quick scan through and see if there’s anything which ties in with this event?  Thank you.”

Jo turned back to Henry.  “Right, if there’s nothing else you want to see here, I’ll drop you off on my way.”

“Home would be good, thank you.  Are you in a rush?  If not, Abe might be persuaded to make some more coffee.”

“Sounds good.  There’s not much more I can do until we have confirmation about the missing document.  After which, we may need to track down the collector.”

“The collector’s name wasn’t mentioned in the article, but I suspect Abe will have a good idea of who it might be.”

“Excellent.  And that gives me the perfect reason for stopping by for coffee.”

“You do realize Abe will probably insist on you staying for lunch, too.”

“Even better!”

 


End file.
